


Blood Hound

by Howling_Harpy



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Friendship, Gossip, Love at First Sight, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Harpy/pseuds/Howling_Harpy
Summary: "I've been told there's always been one man they could count on," Ron told Lipton. He's been told all sort of things.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Blood Hound

**Author's Note:**

> This is once again those headcanons that's been asked and I just had to write. Because in That Scene Speirs mentions that "he's been told" about Lipton, I naturally had to write about how and why he's been told. I'm filling in blanks.
> 
> For Dog company I dug up a list of names and just made them up. Because Ron needs more buddies.
> 
> *
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction based on the HBO's drama series and the actors' portrayals in it. This work doesn't represent any real person and means no disrespect.

Snow was falling and the thick layer of it covering the Bois Jacques forest muffled all sound. Thick fog was like a curtain making it impossible to see further than fifty yards ahead, and all around were rows and rows of identical trees, their branches hanging low, heavy with snow. All was quiet, white and greyish blue.

Ron walked quietly along the familiar path. He stepped his heel on the ground first and let the rest of his foot follow in a rolling motion, minimizing the crunch of snow and the chance of tripping on something underneath it. Even though he was walking a well-known path for umpteenth time, the way to the outpost felt way too long.

A small squad from Easy Company was supposed to be guarding Dog’s flank between their lines, but the amount of empty, uncovered ground between Dog’s furthest man and the squad from Easy was way too vast.

With amusement, Ron heard the squad before he saw them, talking about him of all things. He waited in the fog for a minute as the two more experienced guys shared the chilling tale with the young replacement, then stepped up at the very edge of their foxhole to do what he was there to do.

He kept his face straight, but felt giddy amusement when he watched the pale faces and round eyes looking up at him as the men answered his questions in small voices and averted their gazes from his. The role of the battalion boogeyman was something Ron hadn’t planned, but it was extremely funny how the shadow grew without him having to do anything about it.

When he returned back to Dog, his fellow platoon leader sought him out and fell in step with him.

“Hey, Blood Hound, how’re the scaredy cats of E?” Lieutenant Kelly asked.

“As bad as we thought,” Ron replied, daring to light a cigarette with his back towards the line. “We are spread out too thin and Easy doesn’t have a proper commander.”

Kelly pursed his mouth and quirked his blonde brows in a way that was put-upon but well past worry. The I’ve-seen-it-all type of bleak acceptance along with his fair hair and big blue eyes made him look like a comically nihilistic angel. His sigh came out with a swirling cloud of white. 

Ron watched his buddy wrap his arms tightly around himself and how his pink lips had turned white, took pity on him and passed along his cigarette. 

Kelly chuckled, in on the joke and took a long, grateful drag. “The men are talking,” he noted in a low voice and started to walk again. 

Ron joined him. “Yeah, I’ve heard. From what I’ve seen, it’s not empty gossip.”

Kelly huffed in discomfort. He had faced the siege with remarkable calm, but this new threat coming from the inside made even him frown. “Easy has good soldiers, but without a head or direction they are not much use.”

Ron nodded gravely. “Lieutenant Dike is a bureaucrat. He can’t grasp the situation at hand, just plans ahead without seemingly realizing that it’s useless if we all die before we get there.”

Kelly hummed in agreement. “Fox has been hit pretty heavily, and if Easy is in decline too, even with all our might I don’t think Dog can pull us through alone.” He spoke quietly and in confidence, and despite the state of matters Ron felt supported with someone who shared the burden. 

“I think we should investigate further so that we can take appropriate action,” Ron said.

Kelly chuckled. “Agreed, but let’s send someone else except you.”

Ron smiled back at him, barely holding back a grin. “Whatever you might mean?”

Kelly grinned, shook his head and stole Ron’s cigarette. “Bad dog,” he scolded with a purse of his lips before taking off to his own platoon.

Ron didn’t actually need to be convinced to pick someone less intimidating than himself to go and check on Easy. It made sense, since extracting an enlisted man from the line was easier than doing so with an officer, and on top of that there were things the enlisted men saw that were made invisible to the officers.

After conversing briefly with lieutenants Kelly and Baranowski from first platoon, Ron sent privates Kowalski and Graham from his platoon to Easy to see what’s what. He gave them mail and supplies that had been misdirected to Dog (with his help) and told them to run subtle recon while returning the missing things, making it extra clear that they were not to reveal their true mission. Ron checked in with Sergeant Scott and saw that he understood the point, and so the men were on their way.

It was nerve-wrecking to wait all and every day. Ron checked in with his sergeants several times a day to make sure his platoon was focused, and the rest of the time he walked the line, watching for any weaknesses or changes in the status. 

After the siege had been broken in Bastogne and the regiment got on the move again, he had sensed that the men were more alert. During the endless siege he had done his all to stop the men from falling into apathy, lulled by cold, hunger and horror, and being on the move made his job easier, but still they had to hang on with all their might. He wasn’t worried about his company, his pack of war dogs more than prepared to fight and conquer, but he knew that considering the bigger picture they couldn’t carry the rest of the battalion. 

Easy was perhaps the best unit they had, as Ron admitted only silently to himself and never out loud, but if it really was without a leader it was no use to anyone. It would just scatter and be destroyed, and having a company like that watching Dog’s flank wasn’t to Ron’s liking.

Late that night after darkness had fallen, Sergeant Scott sought him out in his foxhole. The short, stocky man fit easily into the hole with Ron, and even with his cheeks bitten by frost, he seemed to be his cheerful self. “Evening, sir,” he greeted. “I have a report on Easy.”

“Excellent. Let me hear it,” Ron prompted immediately. 

Scott took his helmet off and scratched his fingers through his greasy brown hair and no doubt itching scalp. “Well the thing is, sir, that Easy seems to be doing just fine,” he said with a shrug.

Ron frowned. “Really?”

Scott planted his helmet back on. “Yep. Kowalski and Graham walked basically through their whole sector, talked to several of their buddies and even saw a couple of officers. Easy seems to be doing just fine. It’s up to its previous standards and perfectly functional.”

Ron frowned even more. Sure, it was good news, but it didn’t add up. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Did they see the CO?”

Scott shrugged again. “No, sir,” he said, “they said that Easy is watching the line, fully geared up and ready for battle, they have covered their ground with few casualties and everything seems to be running smoothly. Well, as smoothly as can be expected.”

“But they didn’t see Lieutenant Dike?”

“No, they met the first sergeant and tried asking, but he told them not to worry about it, took the mail and supplies, offered them coffee and sent our boys back here,” Scott explained.

Ron scoffed. “The first sergeant chased them away, huh?”

Scott gave a begrudging grin. “So they said, with a smile and a pat on the back too. Probably didn’t like them chattering with his men.”

“Hmm.” Ron considered it. Perhaps the tasks he had given the privates had been a poor cover, perhaps they had been too obvious with their questions. Perhaps the first sergeant had been ordered to protect their wayward CO, or… Or perhaps, there was someone in Easy who was aware of their decline and was protecting the morale as much from the inside threat as his curious dogs. That was an encouraging thought, but it wasn’t a proper answer and Ron wanted to be sure. 

“Alright. Thank you, sergeant. You may go,” Ron said and waved Scott off, and the man jumped out of the foxhole and was on his way.

It kept snowing. Snow fell in a heavy curtain, big frosty flakes adding to the already thick cover and making it impossible to stomp permanent paths along the line. Ron had taught the soldiers in Dog to mark the trees by peeling off the bark to leave a bright white mark on the trunk to help finding their way, but when they relieved the first battalion from the line near the town of Foy, there weren’t many trees left. 

Ron hated artillery fire. He hated lying in a hole in the ground and hoping for the best without any chance of fighting back, and as days of cruel, relentless barrages, one right after another, his will to assault the town grew and grew. 

Taking care of the men was harder and harder by each day they spent covering in their holes, and Ron hoped to ooze enough restless rage for them to soak it up and stay focused on the objective. Soon they’d get to attack, soon they would no longer hide with their tails between their legs. 

But not everyone was waiting for the eventual attack with such enthusiasm, he noticed.

Lieutenant Baranowski brought the matter up with Ron and Kelly once when they were making their way back from the company CP.

“My men are restless,” he mentioned abruptly, his black shaggy beard hiding the tight line of his mouth. 

Ron understood, as did Kelly. 

“Yes, we know,” Kelly said. “It’s about Easy, right?” 

“Right,” Baranowski confirmed, huffing into his collar. “Being able to hold the line doesn’t mean being able to attack.”

Ron had to agree. “Perhaps we should see for ourselves,” he suggested. “This time more subtly.” 

“You could go yourself,” Baranowski suggested with a laugh. “Since you love gossip so.”

“Whatever you might mean,” Ron mused with a lopsided smile, and the broad Russian laughed into his beard.

“Earn your name, Blood Hound,” Kelly joined in and bumped into Ron, a bright grin on his weathered, pretty face. 

“Fine, fine,” Ron agreed, took out a pack of cigarettes and shared them with the two other platoon leaders.

He didn’t go by himself, at least not immediately. Ron wasn’t a social person by nature, but he was observant, and so taking count of those who had good buddies in Easy and rearranging the duties in his platoon slightly to add a little recon for them didn’t require asking around. The fact that Easy’s radioman T-4 Luz was friends with pretty much everyone made him a valuable source of information and easy to plan around, and the rest was just filling in the gaps.

During the course of a couple of days a selected few of Dog company found their way into Easy’s line on various excuses and some with an actual purpose. This time Ron knew to warn them about a very sharp-eyed and strict first sergeant, and hoped that dodging him would mean better results.

He himself decided to linger by the battalion C.P. one day and managed to catch his own buddy from Easy on his way to deliver a patrol report.

“Hey, Ed,” Ron greeted as soon as he saw Lieutenant Shames.

Shames, who had a habit of looking constantly either worried or irritated even without prominent stubble covering his cheeks, visibly lit up when he saw Ron stepping out of the fog. 

“Hi, Ron! I see you’re still kicking,” he said, all his worries smoothing off his face for a moment.

“God won’t have me and I’m too much for the devil,” Ron said with a shrug and a grin, and Shames chuckled at his quip. 

“It’s good to see you,” Shames said with a clap of Ron’s shoulder. He was on his way back to Easy, and Ron joined him. On a closer look Shames looked tired.

“How are things?” Ron asked. 

Shames gave him an exhausted look. “Pretty dismal, to be honest,” he gritted, somewhat bitterly. “Can you believe that I’m actually sad that we lost Buck Compton?”

“Your third platoon leader?”

Shames nodded. “Yeah. For trench foot of all things! Well, ‘trench foot’, if you know what I mean,” he added and gave Ron a meaningful, burdened look. He threw a look over his shoulder back at the battalion CP. They were out of earshot. “Fucking command, I swear…”

“How come?” Ron asked. 

Shames groaned. “Damn Winters. Thanks to him, we’re down two platoon leaders and we have a useless CO. He just keeps that damn lieutenant in command even though he does exactly nothing, and I know he sent Lieutenant Peacock away so that he could keep _Nixon_ around, another useless officer who won’t ever shoot a kraut even if he was close enough to the front line to do so.”

Ron hummed in sympathy. He knew that Shames went against the popular opinion and didn’t like Captain Winters, and even though Ron had yet to form his own opinion, he appreciated someone who wasn’t afraid of speaking his mind. “We’ve heard all the way in Dog that you’re having some problems,” he mentioned.

“I bet,” Shames spat with a grimace. “I don’t blame you. Heaven forbid, we’re stuck with such useless officers that I have been led in combat by a sergeant. Can you imagine? Our First Sergeant calling the shots while our CO is off taking walks or hiding in a foxhole.”

Ron blinked in surprise. “Your First Sergeant? Which battle?”

Shames let out a rough laugh. “The gee-damn battle back at Bulge, and pretty much every battle before and since while we’ve had Foxhole Norman in command. Damn it all, damn army and the politics, this would have never happened if someone thought –” 

“Hang on,” Ron interrupted the no doubt much needed rant, “your First Sergeant led your platoon?”

Shames gave a weary sigh. “Hell no, I still lead my own platoon, thank heaven. No, Lipton led the whole company.”

Ron gathered that Lipton was the First Sergeant’s name. He didn’t recall his face and made a note of the name, but was more focused on the more important matters. “You had an enlisted man lead your company in the battle of the Bulge?” 

Shames gave him a flat look and rolled his eyes. “I’m not proud of it, but at least we pulled through. I’m glad it was Lipton, he’s a good man. I got to admit that I was fooled by how motherly he is to the men into thinking he couldn’t handle combat, but damn, that man has more nerve than many officers. We were facing tanks charging at us across a forest clearing while we were dug in in the cover of the forest just behind the treeline. They opened fire at us, and First Sergeant just kept running behind our foxholes, just hunched down a little while shouting orders to hold the fire and wait for a better target. He commanded the fire and got us on the move too. He ordered a squad to take on the tanks, helped to evacuate a buddy of his in the middle of it, then came back to lead us until the end.”

Ron could only listen. He couldn’t decide what to think of the story he was hearing: On one hand, a company that lacked an officer who could direct it in combat was bad news, but dear God at least said company seemed to have one exceptional NCO up for the task and beyond. 

Ron had a focus of interest then, but even if he hadn’t, he would have when the stories from the soldiers of Dog got back to him. 

Easy was still up for its task, perhaps against all odds. It might have been hammered to hell and back and lacked a competent commanding officer, but still it was a disciplined, exemplary fighting unit held together and focused like a singular arrow towards the target, all by one man. First Sergeant Lipton was mentioned over and over, no matter what was the matter a man from Dog has asked after.

Sergeant Scott had asked about the formation Easy had taken and gotten a story of the First Sergeant helping the men choose their spots and then dig and cover their foxholes. It seemed like there wasn’t a single foxhole that the First Sergeant hadn’t personally approved in the whole formation.

Sergeant Phillips had yet another tale about Easy withstanding an artillery barrage, and one thing they all had in common aside from the horror and despair was the First Sergeant, his strong voice roaring orders to stay down and asking after each and every one of his men. He was the first one out of the foxhole every time, always checking up on the men, and it sounded like he was everywhere at once. Digging a buddy out from under a fallen tree, seeing off the wounded before they were evacuated, and comforting the shocked and shaken men. 

Sergeant Corrington from Ron’s own platoon had a story how the First Sergeant had been wounded back in Normandy but it didn’t seem to slow him down a bit. There seemed to be no lingering fear in him, quite the contrary. One corporal from Easy knew to tell that First Sergeant Lipton was a steady man who would stare at horror straight on and laughed during artillery barrages. 

Sergeant Chapman on the other hand had a tale of a deeply compassionate man who had those who broke under the stress evacuated. He had personally calmed and escorted away a private who had started to frantically dig a foxhole with his hands when everyone else had been too shocked to interfere, perhaps afraid that fear could infect them upon touch. 

Sergeant Hill told Ron personally that he’d appreciate a man so professional, as First Sergeant Lipton seemed to have zero tolerance for gossip that might harm morale. Ron knew Sergeant Hill to be a man who appreciated careful planning and was one of the noticeably smart ones in his platoon, and knew that if he recognized something like that in Easy’s First Sergeant, he must have a good head on his shoulders. 

All in all, it seemed that they had worried over nothing. Easy might have had a cowardly bureaucrat for a CO, but even if Lieutenant Dike were to disappear on one of his walks and never come back, there was one such true soldier among their ranks that the loss would have no impact on the company.

Lieutenant Kelly had sent some of his men to see about Easy too, and after yet another briefing at the company CP he recited what he had learned to Ron, who offered him a cigarette for his trouble. 

Kelly wasn’t an easy man to impress. Ron remembered him from the OCS as one of the more quiet and weaker ones at first, but he had come the furthest by the end, and despite being on the shyer side, he was quick and smart, and it was a mistake not to listen to him. He had once noted to Ron that he had a tendency to make people show their uglier side to him and that was why he didn’t bother being impressed by most when others were. He had gestured to his soft, blond curls and delicate face when he had said ‘a tendency’, and Ron had understood. 

Kelly was also the only one of Dog company’s officers who had actually met First Sergeant Lipton, and the fact that he was quietly impressed by him told more good things about the nature of the First Sergeant than most of the stories.

Still, Ron listened to Kelly’s stories eagerly. 

“Did you hear the story about Easy’s battle at the Bulge already? What the First Sergeant did there?” Kelly asked with a slightly disbelieving shake of his head.

“Yes, I did,” Ron admitted, “But you can tell me again.” 

He hadn’t thought his voice had anything special in it, but Kelly gave him a look, his blue eyes suddenly dark. There was a worrying smile playing at his lips, and a spark of something like pity in his eyes. Ron stared back at him, suddenly on guard and squared his jaw in hopes of shaking him off.

Kelly raised one fine, pale brow at him and sighed. “Oh _my_ , Ron,” he commented.

Ron bristled. “What?”

Kelly only shrugged and shook his head, but his smile stretched and there was a knowing if sympathetic look in his eyes. “A fine man, Easy’s First Sergeant, isn’t he?” he said innocently, that sharp look still in his eyes and his fingers rolling his cigarette between them. “Stuff of legends for sure, don’t you think? He’s so exceptional, strong and brave and capable, rising up to an impossible challenge in a dire situation like this… Selflessly carrying out his duty and more, faces combat fearlessly and with natural talent, earning the respect and admiration of the men and just keeps going forward.” 

Ron narrowed his eyes in a warning at his fellow lieutenant, whose smile only grew under the look. “John…” Ron growled as a warning.

Kelly’s angelic features did little to hide the clear suggestion and teasing even though he batted his lashes at Ron. “What? You asked me to tell you about him.”

“Sure,” Ron admitted begrudgingly. He crossed his arms, squeezing his Thompson securely to his side. He kept his face neutral as they walked and hoped that the matter would be dropped.

But Kelly only took a drag of his cigarette – a cigarette Ron had given him too – and that teasing smile didn’t falter. “I hear he’s very kind too. Selfless and brave, really understanding and always there to comfort those who need, they don’t even need to ask. He’s such a gentle man, I would even say _sweet_ –“

“You’ve made your point!” Ron snapped with a sharp wave of his hand. Despite the freezing air, his face was burning. 

Kelly threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, my dear Blood Hound. You’ll make a puppy of yourself if you’re not careful.”

“Sure, sure,” Ron growled under his breath. 

Kelly took a drag from the cigarette, then passed it back to Ron, who accepted it and took a few shallow puffs from it. For some reason lately he hadn’t had many desires for things like cigarettes or coffee or really even food. 

Ron kept walking the line. They would attack as soon as the regiment would get its shit together and settle on a plan. What he’d seen of the battalion command, Ron knew that Winters was ready even though he seemed concerned about Easy. Even though Ron liked Shames and valued his opinion, he didn’t think it was a bad thing to keep Nixon around. As much as the man was a drunk, Ron knew him to be a capable intelligence officer and on top of that he could see the dedication he had for Winters miles away, and if Nixon needed a reason to perform to the best of his abilities, Winters was it. Ron liked seeing the two of them together. He knew they’d do their utmost best for each other and no other reason.

But Ron kept walking the line, and not only Dog’s but pushed his foot over to Easy’s side too. If he wished to catch a string of gossip or even see a certain someone, that was no one’s business, and really, there was no harm in doing a little recon.

He couldn’t forget about the needling Kelly had given him though. He was confident that Kelly was the only one who could see it and on top of that the only one who was in any position to mention it, but Ron didn’t take him too seriously.

It was just teasing. Ron had admired many soldiers during his time in the army, and Kelly himself was one of them, and if he admired Easy company’s First Sergeant Lipton, that was nothing new. Even if he admired him more than he had ever admired any other. Even if he was dying to finally meet the man and just couldn’t come up with a reason to arrange it. Even if the thought of him made him feel warmer than a fire or hot coffee.

They all needed things to keep them warm, and Ron’s was First Sergeant Lipton, a natural leader, strong and determined while also gentle and sweet. Ron was glad that the freezing wind had bitten his cheeks permanently red. Kelly didn’t need anything more to tease him about.

 _Puppy love_ , Kelly had called it in a sing-song voice and laughed, and if Ron was honest with himself – and he always was – he couldn’t deny it.

Lucky for him, if Ron was one thing it was professional. Combat lit him up like nothing else and when he ran straight into enemy fire he felt that despite being put in charge of Easy he’d forever be a dog.

He’d be a blood hound, a war dog, an animal of pure instinct that galloped into battle with a trail of saliva on his cheek and without a clear doubt or fear on his mind. It was the instinct of that animal that took him to the right place, and that animal knew just the man he wanted.

“First Sergeant Lipton!” he barked as soon as he took command, having already forgotten that he’d nearly died in the middle of his charge there, “What do we got?” 

“Sir!” came the immediate response, and there he was. 

Ron didn’t think about it, just took his (his!) new First Sergeant and the radioman with him and led the company to the objective. 

Combat, that was something he knew. Finally he was there again, charging forward and fighting instead of covering in a hole. Finally.

So he had been promoted. The whole weight of the situation hit him only much later. He was still a first lieutenant but probably not for long, he was no longer a platoon leader but a CO, and he was no longer of Dog – not officially. 

It was surprisingly easy. It felt like there had been a vacancy in Easy for a while, and when Ron showed up to fill it no one had anything against it.

Shames was thrilled to have a good buddy of his in command. Winters’ true feelings were still a mystery to Ron but at least he seemed to be content with his work and kept him in charge of his old company. Ron felt honoured by the approval, he knew it was tough for someone like Winters to be off the field and trust his men to someone else. 

Many things deserved were coming their way, and even when he found he wouldn’t get to keep his First Sergeant, the news of Lipton’s battlefield commission were welcome. The man had slaved away for the company for ages now, and to get an official recognition for it felt like heavenly justice.

Secretly in his heart of heart’s Ron mourned that he wouldn’t get to keep the man, but a much stronger feeling made him ask Winters for the privilege of delivering the news to the First Sergeant himself.

Finally they got to spend a night indoors. It had been over a month of sleeping in holes in the ground, and Ron could see how strange it felt for the men to step inside into the beautiful convent and take refuge there. He looked at his men, beaten and bloody and exhausted, moving indoors like they didn’t know how to anymore. 

Ron let the men settle down onto the benches of the chapel before taking a seat of his own. He didn’t want to impose on the enlisted men, not as an officer or a newcomer to the company, and so he preferred a place slightly to the side where he could draft new orders for the company for the night. 

It was warm inside and at first his hair stood up at the end as if comfort was something hostile and foreign. He was made warmer still and in a much sweeter way by a shadow that stuck close to him.

Ron hadn’t ever met First Sergeant Lipton before. When he had rushed to relieve Lieutenant Dike on the field before Foy he had just cried out the man’s name to summon him, and now that the man he had admired from afar for what felt like a very long time, he couldn’t bear to look directly at him.

He didn’t know why. Lipton had relaxed with the rest of the men, set down his rifle at his feet and taken off his helmet, and Ron couldn’t bear to turn his face directly to him even though the man had quietly chosen to settle near him.

He didn’t understand himself. Perhaps he had waited for this very moment for such a long time that now that it was at hand, he didn’t dare to reach for it. It felt like rushing, like he might ruin it or perhaps have to give up his sweet dreams. Maybe he was afraid.

Of what, he didn’t know as he stayed hunched over his notes. It wasn’t like First Sergeant Lipton could let him down. Ron felt his heart throbbing, his every nerve aware of the man at last close to him.

He spotted movement from the corner of his eye and before he could stop himself, reflexively he looked up.

briefly Lipton caught his gaze and quickly dropped his own. He had been looking at Ron, and now caught he rocked awkwardly on his seat, wrapped his arms tighter around himself and cleared his throat. 

“What is it?” Ron asked.

Lipton glanced up again, and Ron saw his deep brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “Nothing,” Lipton said, his voice so much softer than it had been on the battlefield. 

It felt like the first time they were talking, and in a way it was. There were no individuals in combat, and Ron the bloodthirsty war dog surely wasn’t the part of himself he wanted Lipton to meet. 

It was a beautiful moment, Ron had to admit. The chapel was bathed in soft candlelight and the choir girls were signing something heartfelt and god-fearing, a perfect sanctuary that had accepted a group of bloody soldiers into its arms. There was something fragile in the atmosphere, something that would have been more fitting for a funeral, but instead of mournful it was more peaceful, something that didn’t at all fit the way his heart was beating as if he was still running through enemy fire.

Something of the battle was lingering over him, and of all the things what he started to talk with the softly smiling First Sergeant was his own reputation and didn’t understand why. Perhaps it suddenly occurred to him that Lipton wasn’t the only one who was known by reputation first, and while the stories about Lipton were damn near saintly, the ones about Ron were not. 

He was suddenly disappointed, not in the man before him but in himself. He couldn’t remember what had been so amusing about his cruel reputation mere weeks ago. 

Still, Ron wasn’t about to bow his head or feel sorry about it. He was who he was, and no amount of teasing him about his puppy love or wagging tail could make him any less of a blood hound. He was who he was, but even as he grimaced a smile down at the First Sergeant, the way he looked back up at him with candlelight making his eyes light up and a softly amused smile on his lips made him want to roll over for him.

There, he had had his moment of sweetness. He was about to leave and shake off the strange spell of the convent, but Lipton called after him. His throat sounded sore and he coughed right after speaking, but Ron answered to his voice like it was familiar.

“These men are not really concerned about the stories,” Lipton told him with a confidential nod. “They are just happy to have you as their CO. They are happy to have a good leader again.”

Oh, there it was. Ron felt another spark of admiration that joined the bonfire of it inside him. The man was humble and had no idea that Ron had already heard of him and all the work he had pulled for the sake of his company.

Ron smiled subtly and turned back towards the man, their moment stretching on a bit further. “From what I’ve heard,” he started, “they’ve always had one. I’ve been told there’s always been one man they could count on.”

He recited everything he had heard of the First Sergeant, all of his brilliant feats of loyalty and courage, and what Ron expected was for that modesty to slip off when the man would realize that his reputation had reached the sister company already. It was something Ron had come to expect from officers when they saw eye to eye, and Lipton had certainly proved himself worthy of camaraderie like that. Ron expected his sad brown eyes to light up again and the man to perhaps bark a laugh when called out on his display of humility just like many officers bursting with pride he’d met.

Only Lipton didn’t do anything of the sorts. His thoughtful, slightly sad expression stayed as it was, the man himself quiet. He looked Ron straight in the eye, but when Ron was done with his list and silence lasted a bit too long, his gaze slipped slowly down and aside.

With a leap of his heart Ron realized that Lipton didn’t know who he meant. He stared at the man struck with sudden awe, and his leaping heart started to race, getting way ahead of him. He was sure he was staring with his eyes wide, stunned so that as much as he feared he’d break into a silly smile he couldn’t.

“You… Have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?” he asked.

Lipton chuckled almost apologetically, and Ron felt dizzy like with vertigo. “No, sir,” Lipton admitted.

“Hell, it was you, First Sergeant,” Ron said and couldn’t keep the smile off his face any longer. He couldn’t help it, he had to smile, smile with all that adoration he had weaved up inside himself during the past month without ever laying eyes on this man. “Ever since Winters made battalion you’ve been leader of Easy company,” he added and watched with absolute joy how Lipton slowly blinked back at him like he didn’t know what to do or how to react.

Ron was almost ready to leave it at that, to memorize the look of those deep brown eyes and the open surprise in front of recognition the man hadn’t even thought he’d deserve let alone receive. He was almost leaving when he remembered he was supposed to tell him about the battlefield commission, and remembering to do so was one of the best things Ron had ever experienced. Congratulating the fresh lieutenant in a soft murmur between just the two of them made Lipton finally smile, a grateful bow of his mouth warming his face and lighting up the gentle eyes. 

Ron had to take another second to marvel at him, he simply had to, his heart racing somewhere beyond and a dizzy feeling in his head making his whole body feel lighter. It was as if the floor had tilted and thrown him off, and he was falling, falling hard and fast and deep.


End file.
